


where i sleep

by Pidonyx



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, THE KILLJOYS ARE NOT MCR, idk what’s wrong with me I can only write the same thing over and over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:15:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pidonyx/pseuds/Pidonyx
Summary: Late night thoughts about the past and the Phoenix Witch.
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	where i sleep

**Author's Note:**

> hello again..........this exists partially because i’m personally intrigued by what-ifs and also i’m a narcissist who likes my own killjoys-verse too much and partially because i’m procrastinating on the next chapter of and i ache........anyways all ik how 2 write is be in bed talk at night tender thoughts n lie
> 
> title from where i sleep by emeli sandé

Love is a strange thing.

Poison pulls back the covers to slide underneath, cold fabric warming under his bare legs. The moment his weight hits the mattress, though he’s already asleep, Ghoul snuffles, rolling over. He makes a noise that sounds like it might be “Pois”, and then another one that sounds like “sweetheart”, and he starts patting around until Poison slides closer, slipping his arm into Ghoul’s reach. Then Ghoul makes a contented sound, fingers fumbling a sleepy pattern against Poison’s shoulder for a moment before settling again. Poison curls closer and wiggles until he can wedge his face into the notch of Ghoul’s neck and shoulder against the pillow, boxed in and safe.

He thinks, sometimes. About them. Ghoul is breathing warm, slow huffs against his hair. And Poison loves him. Poison loves him a fucking lot. He thinks about them, and how they ended up here, and if maybe he could’ve made it easier on himself. If he’d let Ghoul in earlier, if they had fallen in love sooner. Or if that would’ve changed everything.

There are so many variables, is the thing. So many little denominations that could’ve changed when or how or even  _if_ their relationship had happened. Poison trails a finger down the curve of Ghoul’s arm, draped over his hip. Poison thinks maybe he could’ve fallen in love in the City. If he’d stopped taking his pills earlier, before Ghoul had disappeared, or if he’d let go of his ego first. Maybe they could’ve made it work, as Alex and Damien instead of Poison and Ghoul. Maybe it would have been three of them leaving the City that night rather than two, or maybe they would have left for the desert even sooner. Poison thinks about that, stolen, chaste kisses in abandoned classrooms, a breathless, hushed escape without the guilt and fear and anger that had accompanied it the way it had actually happened. In his head, he replaces the hazy, flat expression that his biased memories had made him resent more than could possibly have been reasonable with Ghoul’s warm tilt of the mouth, and his heart gives a little kick. Yeah. He definitely could’ve fallen in love.

Or maybe if he hadn’t been so hostile right away, when they had encountered Ghoul in the Zones for the first time. If he had been able to look past the recognition, and the way Ghoul brought back memories he’d much rather forget. Because that hadn’t been fair, hadn’t ever been fair, and if he hadn’t hated Ghoul so much immediately, maybe they wouldn’t have wasted so much time. Maybe it would’ve been right from the start, shy glances and flirting and holding hands. And one day, Poison would work up the courage to tell Ghoul that he liked him, to kiss him first, and he wouldn’t have pined away for more than a year because they would’ve just skipped that part.

Or even if Poison had just told Ghoul earlier. Then maybe Ghoul wouldn’t have had to make the first move. Maybe Poison wouldn’t have had to make himself sick with stress, or spend nights huddled in Kobra’s room crying about it.

Or maybe it would’ve thrown everything off. Maybe changing even something small would’ve meant they wouldn’t have ended up together, or even that they might’ve never met. And that’s a scary thought, that Poison might’ve never had this. Ghoul’s hand brushes carefully over his hair, and it’s only then that Poison realizes that Ghoul’s breathing has changed.

“You’re thinkin’ too hard.” Ghoul’s voice is scratchy with sleep, but gentle. 

Poison hums noncommittally. “D’you think. D’ya think we could’ve gotten t’gether earlier? Like in th’ City? Or when we first met ‘gain in th’ Zones?”

“Mm.” Ghoul pauses, like he’s actually considering the question instead of just thinking Poison’s crazy. Poison squeezes him harder for a second and really, really loves him. One of Ghoul’s hands rubs a soothing circle against his back, absentmindedly. “Yeah. Maybe. You know what I think, Pois, that I kinda think we’re meant t’ be. So sure, ‘f things had been diff’rent I think we still would’ve found each other, y’know?” He presses his chin gently against the top of Poison’s head. “But...can I be honest with you? I like th’ way that we did it. ‘Cause I’m pretty fuckin’ happy with where we ended up.”

“Me too.” Poison leans into the touch when Ghoul puts a hand on his cheek, just gently cradling his face for a second. Poison sighs, momentarily surprised when the sound comes out a little watery. He turns his head to press his face more firmly into Ghoul’s palm. “‘M glad I met you, Ghoulie.”

Ghoul’s free arm loops over Poison’s back to pull him in closer, and Poison feels the brief impression of Ghoul’s lips pressing into his hair. “‘M really glad I met you, too, Pois. You an’ me. To th’ end of th’ line, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Poison says softly, happy to cuddle closer and hook his ankle behind Ghoul’s knee. “I love you. To th’ end.”

Ghoul is warm, and the both of them have always slept better wrapped around each other, so it’s not as much of a surprise as it could have been when Poison feels his eyelids growing heavy. Ghoul is already asleep again, arm warm and solid over Poison’s waist, fingers loosely tangled with his. Poison closes his eyes and listens to him breathe, sending a quiet prayer to the Witch. He still isn’t sure he believes in her, but if she exists, she’s done him a hell of a favor. And Ghoul believes in her — very much — and if he’s right, that she brought them together, then a simple thanks doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

Love is a strange, complicated thing. Just like time, and the way the universe makes things happen. And with his head pressed to Ghoul’s chest, the comforting thump of his heartbeat against Poison’s cheek, Poison thinks that maybe the way things could have gone doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what could have been, because he has everything he wants  _now_ _._ _Thank you_ _,_ he thinks.  _If you can hear me, thank you for giving him to me._

He’s asleep before he realizes he’s drifting off, lulled by Ghoul’s words and warmth and security. Outside the Diner, a raven flies across the moon.


End file.
